Abeogi
by Insomniazzz
Summary: Furrball finally gets his fifteen minutes and runs into his father for his trouble...
1. Chapter 1

Dillion: Hello again and welcome back to "Toon Time Tonight"! I'm your host Rod Dillion! Just as promised, we have a special treat for you tonight. That's right, folks. In his very first live interview, meet the star of the recently nominated short, "Homeward Bound", the one… the only… the elusive… Furrball!

Furrball (via Claude): Hello.

Dillion: Translating for Furrball is the legendary Claude Cat. Nice to have you with us as well, Claude! It's been a long, long time.

Claude: Sure has, but I wouldn't call myself a legend.

Dillion: Well, you know I'm nice like that. Anyways, let's get started. I guess the first thing on everyone's mind has been answered by your presence, Claude. That is can you speak English, Furrball?

Furrball (via Claude): I can understand it. Isn't that enough?

Dillion: Okay, then why don't you speak it? An homage to Tom Injury, perhaps?

Furrball (via Claude): Rigid vocal cords. I'm going to probably start taking speech lesson after school.

Dillion: So "Duck Trek" was…

Furrball (via Claude): I read the lines perfectly in Catonese. Norm McCabe was directing and he thought it'd be funny if I used my mother tongue and they did subtitles for me. Spielberg overruled him during the editing process and got some hack to dub in my lines.

Dillion: Talk about a Star Wars moment.

Furrball (via Claude): I certainly felt like Darth Vader when we saw it afterwards.

Dillion: Moving on, then. Can we talk about some of your trademarks, or will that weaken the mystique that is uniquely Furrball?

Furrball (via Claude): What mystique? People don't know about me because no one ever asked before.

Dillion: Then let me be the first. The ear.

Furrball (via Claude): Didn't see that one coming. Honestly I do a lot of lucid dreaming. Half the time I can't tell whether I'm awake or asleep and honestly I don't really care. It's all real, far as I'm concerned.

Dillion: Yeah.

Furrball (via Claude): So I dunno what really happened myself. It was either a pack of rotties or a time when I was at the pound and they tried to tag my ear, but failed.

Dillion: Failed?

Furrball (via Claude): Maybe I escaped in the middle of the process. Didn't want a radio transmitter on me forever.

Dillion: Wow.

Furrball (via Claude): Yeah. I think that's what happened, but again, I dunno. Seems if it really happened, I wouldn't be able to remember in such detail. But a pack of rotties wouldn't have stopped at the ear, so… I guess the mystique remains.

Dillion: Even so. So what about the bandage?

Furrball (via Claude): You do a lot of interviews Mr. Dillon?

Dillion: Call me "Rod" and yep I've done more than my share it seems.

Furrball (via Claude): You ever ask Mr. T why he has all those chains? You ever ask rappers why they were alarm clocks around their necks?

Dillion: …

Furrball (via Claude): So why are you asking me about the bandage?

Dillion: I'm sorry, I…

Furrball (via Claude): It's cool. I just don't wanna answer the question. (laughs)

Dillion: Alright… I won't press the matter. So about your craft, did you start becoming a method actor when you enrolled in the Looniversity?

Furrball (via Claude): Method act…? You think it's all a front?

Dillion: …Well yeah. I mean the APA or Child Services or the Humane Society would've gotten you by now if you didn't have a permanent residence, right?

Furrball (via Claude): They gave up on me years ago. Way before I started school.

Dillion: So you're… homeless?

Furrball (via Claude): I prefer to be called a stray. Strays don't have a home… they're nomads. Perpetual campers. That's what I am.

Dillion: Since you were-

Furrball (via Claude): Orphaned immediately. Dunno anything more than hiding in a cardboard box eating trash as a kitten.

Dillion: Oh my god… But you're cool now, right?

Furrball (via Claude): Because I'm on TV? Because I go to school?

Dillion: I mean, uh… yeah!

Furrball (via Claude): Acme Loo isn't a boarding school. I don't think I'd stay there even if it were.

Dillion: Why, for goodness sake?! Can't you stay with friends or teachers? Aren't you Sylvester's number one student?!

Furrball (via Claude): I tried it before, believe me. Whenever I'm in a nice, warm place, things go wrong. It starts to feel really confining and I get nervous around families and make a lot of mistakes. Cause a lot of trouble. If I make it to sleep, I sleepwalk outside. I guess my subconscious is telling me I don't need to hide from what I am.

Dillion: So all that business about the cardboard box in the alley is true?

Furrball (via Claude): What? No!!! Do you know what it's like in the rain? Have you ever had to smell soggy cardboard? If anyone catches on to a routine, it's dangerous on the streets. I sleep under cars, in flat tires, condemned apartments, wherever no one is, basically.

Dillion: Are the, well locals, friendly?

Furrball (via Claude): The hookers? The pimps? The dealers? They don't bother me. I don't have anything to steal and there really isn't any reason to mess with a stray in the first place.

Dillion: No, I guess not.

Furrball (via Claude): Sometimes they share a snack with me.

Dillion: Really?

Furrball (via Claude): Well, once or twice.

Dillion: I see. So are you… happy? Resentful? Angry? Content? Apathetic?

Furrball (via Claude): It depends on the day and the weather. I'm generally nihilistic. You're probably gonna have to edit that one out.

Dillion: So there's no right or wrong?

Furrball (via Claude): No, more leaning to there not being an objective truth… I guess they're related.

Dillion: Okay, well I can't blame you for feeling that way. Especially after… Well, what does the future hold for Furrball? A spinoff miniseries, perhaps? A feature film, maybe?

Furrball (via Claude): I hope not. I'm not really into this whole genre. Or acting, for that matter. It seems so very degrading and clichÈd at times.

Dillion: So what are you doing there?!

Furrball (via Claude): What do you mean?

Dillion: You didn't just wake up one day and say you wanted to bunk the system by joining it.

Furrball (via Claude): Hey I was just minding my business, taking a nap at the park when Buster and Babs started making all this noise and a huge line gathered somewhere. I just wanted them to shut up, but when I came to complain, they thought I was auditioning and gave me a part.

Dillion: So what're you going to do after you finish school?

Furrball (via Claude): They set up some kinda trust fund for me so I'll get it when I graduate. Then, I'm going to rent a room somewhere and get a regular job. You know, an electrician or a plumber. Some job where people look down on the guy, but really need 'em. Seems appropriate for me.

Dillion: Don't take this the wrong way… I've interviewed so many toons and most seem to be completely the same, just toned down a little off camera, but you seem to be living two lives here. How does completing a short like "Homeward Bound" feel to you as opposed to the necessary clichÈ in "Let's Do Lunch" with Sweetie?

Furrball (via Claude): Please don't mention her again. Ever.

Dillion: Harboring some bad f-

Furrball (via Claude): Seriously. I'd say "Ya gotta pay the rent", but I don't have a home in the first place.

Dillion: All in good time, Furrball. You made your bed, now-

Furrball (via Claude): Who made it?! I'm done with this.

Dillion: Whoa, whoa, whoa, Furrball, please. I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like that… Just kinda seems to me… That last part of "Furrball's Follies" when you ran out of the house into the alley, giving up on finding a place to stay, that somehow you really do prefer the streets to a warm home.

Furrball (via Claude): Is that how you see it?

Dillion: You could be in any home you wanted to be in, when it comes down to it. I mean, right?

Furrball (via Claude): This is the problem. There's always been this formula. "Adopt the poor defenseless kitty". Well it's bullshit, really.

Dillion: How so?

Furrball (via Claude): What is so wrong about having the desire to be free to make it through life on your own accord? I don't want to live on the streets, but if it means I have to to be able to still call the shots in my own life, then that's the price I have to pay. But you're saying that I asked for it.

Dillion: I wasn't trying to-

Furrball (via Claude): You're saying that I ran away from home or something. I never had a home to begin with.

Dillion: Yeah… I guess I see where you're coming from. It's a bit surprising that you can be so articulate for someone that doesn't actually speak.

Furrball (via Claude): So now Catonese isn't a language?

Dillion: No, I…

Furrball (via Claude): Forget about it.

Dillion: So let's try to clarify your role in Tiny Toon Adventures.

Furrball (via Claude): My role?

Dillion: Indeed. You only have two antagonistic roles thus far in the show. More often than not, you're the go-to guy for stunts and the sympathetic cat with "Charlie Brown" syndrome. Your best work seems to come when you're doing a silent short. I loved the story about you and the yellow ribbon. Seemed so organic. That's a lost art form. Telling a story without words. Not enough people give you credit for that.

Furrball (via Claude): I forgot the question, but thanks.

Dillion: Ha ha ha! I think I did too. Anyways, who do you get along with at the university? The rumors of you and Fifi have persisted since "Aroma Amore"!

Furrball (via Claude): She doesn't live in a broken down Caddy in the local dump. Just for the record.

Dillion: Really???

Furrball (via Claude): And we're not an item and never have been.

Dillion: Aww.

Furrball (via Claude): We don't ever meet off screen. She lives in her world. I survive in mine.

Dillion: Do you socialize at all, despite the communication barrier?

Furrball (via Claude): I sometimes hang out with Dizzy. He's pretty sensitive to the fact that he has to play an idiotic savage type creature with a heart of gold.

Dillion: He's different off-screen?

Furrball (via Claude): Most of them aren't. He's the exception of exceptions.

Dillion: I'd say you were if you weren't using Claude to translate, but I'll have to take your word for it. What about the other mutes like Little Beeper or Calamity?

Furrball (via Claude): I feel for Beeper. He's never going to be taken seriously and no one's ever going to ask about him. If there were a lake monster in The Great Salt Lake in Utah that has never been seen before, I'd compare Little Beeper to the that monster as opposed to Nessie who doesn't really exist but continues to draw attention.

Dillion: You two ever hang out?

Furrball (via Claude): Are you kidding? I'm always starving when I'm around him and his scent makes me hungry for chicken. No way.

Dillion: So what about Calamity?

Furrball (via Claude): He's a complete mute, but he's got stock in wooden signs and Sharpies. We really don't share any interests and both agreed not to hang out just for the sake of us being mutual loners.

Dillion: So, just Dizzy, then?

Furrball (via Claude): … yeah, pretty much. It's not like I really have a lot of time to hang out with anyone anyway, though. Besides, I hate it when they act like they're walking on eggshells when they talk to me. When they start to complain about their petty problems and get depressed about normal teenage stuff, if they're around me, they shut up and seem to silently resent the fact that they can't feel sorry for themselves when they're around me. It's always awkward. That's if they even notice me.

Dillion: Makes me feel uncomfortable just thinking about lunchtime in the cafeteria.

Furrball (via Claude): It was for about a week. But at least no one tries to bully me. That's the good thing about being invisible in plain sight.

Dillion: Yeah. You don't really look it, but I'll bet you'd win almost any fight you got into.

Furrball (via Claude): I'll never tell.

Dillion: Heh. So how does it feel being one of the very few original characters on the show? Most of the other major characters are 2nd or 3rd generation from Looney Tunes or other factions… If you don't have family in the business it's so hard to get in. How does that feel?

Furrball (via Claude): I'd trade a normal life for this any day. As l long as I'm here, though, it does give me a bit of satisfaction knowing that. Though it's hard to be proud of being a homeless TV actor.

Dillion: I'll bet it does. Mixed bag at best, eh? So what's with your extremely high threshold for pain? I mean this is beyond the normal toon. You do these shows like you haven't got a nerve cell in your body!

Furrball (via Claude): It's kind of a "mind over matter" thing. I learned a very young age that pain wasn't going to kill me. A lot of toons think it on the outside, but they never really _know_ it so they panic at the last second amplifying the pain by a lot, which is why they can't do some of the things that I can. But you should ask them. I dunno what goes on in their heads. Maybe they don't want to show how much they can take because the writers will go to town with them and destroy their careers. I'll bet Wile is kicking himself for saying "yes" all those times when he started out.

Dillion: He probably is. Well, Furrbal, I really want to say that it's been a pleasure and I really appreciate the opportunity. I hope we can interview you again in the future when you're older and under similar circumstances when you're up for another reward.

Furrball (via Claude): Thank you.

Dillion: Good luck to you, Furrball and I wish you the best in life.

Furrball (via Claude): I appreciate the attention. Take care.


	2. Chapter 2

The occasional night when the road bridge was deserted was a welcome shelter from the freezing rain. With the exception of the infrequent sound of oncoming traffic, it was the best spot to be in under the stars on a December night. The words of the reporter echoed in Furrball's head, causing an uneasiness uncharacteristic even to him. Was this really the life he'd chosen? What he'd wanted this whole time? Was the desire for a home and a family something pushed on him from writers and teachers? If it was, what right did he have to be upset?

_There's no logic and thinking about it logically,_ he thought. _Lady Luck just fucked you over._

Routine won. As soon as he started contemplating something complicated, the cat fell asleep.

The daily trudge to the Looniversity was normally uneventful. Furrball always made it a point to come at 5:30 when the janitors were arriving. That gave him half an hour to take a shower in the locker rooms before the sports teams started showing up. Scuffles with the jocks had proved to be more dangerous than dealing with the pimps on the corner. The janitors never gave Furrball shit for being what he was. They didn't overly baby him either (or even try to). He liked that.

After a long shower, Furrball made his way to his homeroom to get started on his homework as usual, but today, the principal was waiting in the class, with an economy sized coffee cup.

"Heya Furrball." The rabbit greeted in an exhausted, yet somewhat perky tone.

Furrball meowed politely, but eyed the superstar suspiciously trying to guess his motives for such an early meeting.

"I'd have called you over the loudspeaker, but I didn't wanna draw any unwanted attention to you, you having that horrible case of shy and all."

The feline mewed graciously, though his expression still hadn't changed.

"I'd like you to stop by my office after the last bell today. You' ve got a visitor coming and I'm not exactly sure who."

Furrball raised an eyebrow and cocked his head. A visitor?!

"It's getting to that time in the year when the recruiters are gonna start banging down your box trying to get you to work for them, but I gotta sneaking suspicion that this isn't a recruiter. Can I trust that you'll come?" Bugs' tone was uncharacteristically hopeful.

The blue cat nodded slowly Curiosity. Cat. Do the math.

Seven period seemed to drag on and on and on. Normally, Furrball loved Physics because Professor Coyote never asked him questions. The teacher noticed Furrball's odd mood too, but decided not to press it. Throughout the class, Fifi seemed to be trying to get his attention, but Furrball pretended not to notice, keeping his attention entirely on the clock, staring a hole in it. When the clock began to smoke, Wile rapped Furrball's desk subtly, getting the cat to stop the death stare, but not drawing attention to him, either. Furrball smiled at the coyote, silently thanking him. The professor nodded as he wrapped up his lecture on suicide diving with delayed audio. Furrball was the first one out the door when the bell rang, sprinting past the others to the principal's office avoiding bullies, admirers and indifferent students alike. Making it into the principal's office, Furrball quickly closed the door behind him.

"Effie!" A cheerful voice exclaimed. Furrball looked up at the receptionist's desk to find Penelope Kitty smiling brightly at him. She'd given him that nickname years ago on Thanksgiving. Furrball blushed under his blue fur and looked at his feet. _ Nice to see you again, Ms. Kitty_, he stated in their native tongue. Furrball generally avoided trips to the principal's office and actually had never been this year before now.

"You still owe us your presence at dinner, Effie. You promised me last year!"

_Sorry Ms. Kitty. I have been busy._

"Oh, you don't need to apologize. Go on in, anyway. Bugs has been expecting

you."

_Thank you, Ms. Kitty._ Furrball couldn't keep from smiling like an idiot as he made his way into the principal's office. Upon closing the door behind him, He saw a muscular, rather tall blue panther crouched in the corner with a similar smile. Nodding his head toward the other feline, Furrball looked quizzically at Bugs. The rabbit motioned for Furrball to sit on the couch.

"Thanks for coming, Furrball," Bugs started, getting up from his seat and walking around his desk. "You wouldn't recognize him, but Senor Benicio here has some news for you."

Furrball turned his attention to the panther, noticing something very familiar about his features.

The panther dropped a folder on the principal's desk. Furrball's eyes followed it intently.

"Hope you don't mind, Furrball, but we took a sample of your DNA from the cafeteria for this." Bugs nodded toward the folder.

The panther was trying and failing to look confident as Furrball picked up the folder. Their eyes locked for a brief moment just before Furrball was about to open the folder. Suddenly, the stray put the folder down again.

_You had me, didn't you?_

Bugs didn't speak Catonese but could easily extract the venom from the student's tone.

_Yes. I'm your fa-_

Furrball made a wild motion with his paw, cutting the panther off. He slashed at the stranger so quickly, Bugs hadn't realized what was happening at first before trying to intervene. When Furrball was finished a few seconds later, blood was dripping from his claws, as was from the panther's face.

_You don't get to say it. Nobody does!_

Bugs noticed the cat's heart thumping a million times a minute.

"Calm it down, Furrball. You're gonna crash if you don't."

It was too late. The blue feline fainted where he stood.

Furrball awoke to the foreign scent of antiseptics and medicine. Opening his eyes, it took a moment for him to register where he was; the nurse's office. Penelope and Bugs were waiting for him to come to. Furrball sat up noticing the absence of a third party.

_What happened?_

"It wasn't… a dream, Furrball." Penelope said gently. Bugs held the manila folder in his hand.

"He took off after you passed out, kiddo."

Furrball sat up on the slab and took the folder from Bugs, reading its contents quickly. Before anyone could say anything, the cat dropped the folder and ran out of the office, nearly running over Hampton in the hallway. A minute later, he was on the streets looking for a place to clear his head. Choosing a fire escape of an old warehouse, Furrball retreated into a deep slumber, gladly embracing the only world he had control over.


	3. Chapter 3

If you know what's good for you, you'll have your dreams in order backed up with interest before you come here.

But that's practical and practicality doesn't pursue a career in entertainment. To do that, you have to be at least partially insane. He was. He was a drummer at a Samba club on Oleander. She wasn't. She was a ballerina whose troop left her to study with the masters and maybe star in a few cat food commercials. They weren't supposed to meet; she broke her cardinal rule one day after her boyfriend cheated on her (on her birthday, too).

She tried to make herself look happy as she walked out on that warm July night. The sounds of the packed club beckoned her along with the rest of the capacity crowd.

The band was amazing. They were random, chaotic, disorganized and never finished their songs on the stage. It was essentially a jam session on the stage and they just happened to be opened for business. She saw him.

Everybody did.

Played the congas with his foot paws, the trap set with his forepaws and kept the bass drums steady using his tail. What really drew her in were his eyes, though. Those eyes said it all. He was the only one in the band not having a grand time. He was pissed, actually. He beat those drums as if he were torturing his worst enemy. No in the club really seemed to notice. Except her.

Three sets and four hours later, he was on a break. Sat at the bar, wiped the sweat from his brow. Looked in her direction, not at her, though. Ordered a Lemon Slice, his usual according to the barkeep. With no music to distract them, the wolves were on the prowl for new pussy. His break was about to be cut short.

"Ya lost, ma'am?" Canine A slurred his speech a bit, brandishing his liquid courage. She didn't want to ignore him. That would be provocative.

"Not exactly." A dignified response.

"Well you're a bit overdressed to be in a dump like this, aren't you?" Canine B chimed in, taking a seat next to her, his breath reeking of Bourbon.

"You don't look too shabby yourself. " She tried flattery, changing the subject. It looked like the bouncers that didn't have their hands full at that time were the ones hitting on her.

"Hey, I'm better looking than that mutt any day! Lemme buy you a drink." Canine A pushed past his competitor, tripping a bit, his nose touching hers for a moment. His nostrils flared, as did hers. For opposite reasons.

"You smell like Heaven outta smell."

Before she could react, a heavy paw pushed on her shoulder, placing her back on her stool.

"I wonder how you taste, then." Canine B half growled just before he licked her face slowly.

"Stop-" She was cut short, as Canine B grabbed her mouth and held it tightly. Her eyes darted around fiercely for some assistance but no one was paying her any attention.

"My buddy needs a taste, too before we're more intimately acquainted." B grunted softly, his tone laced with arousal. Before she could wince, canine A was in front of her again, nose stuck in the air. He inhaled deeply, a sly grin forming on his face.

"Hey Simon, there's a scuffle between some lesbians in the men's room." His tone was nonchalant as he strolled up to the three. Canine A looked interested.

"No foolin'?!"

"Dude, go do your job."

"No doubt!"

As soon as canine A turned his attention away from the scene, the other saw his drumsticks.

There wasn't a warning.

He chucked a stick has hard as he could, striking canine B in the head, causing an immediate release. Before the dog could recover himself, the cat pounced him, breaking the other drumstick on his temple. As canine A turned around, the feline was already off the downed wolf and on him. She watched in awe as he bloodied his paws.

"What the shit?!"

The drummer looked up to find the owner; canine A's cousin.

"Get the fuck off him!" Soho ordered, pushing the tomcat off the limp body.

"Simon?"

He wasn't moving. At all. A group of onlookers offered their insight.

"Dude, you wasted Simon!"

"He's fuckin' dead?!"

"How could you do that shit?!"

"Yo, serves him right, fuckin' wit an innocent feline female."

"So now it's a species thing?!"

"Always has been."

The fight soon had the entire club involved, sans drummer who was paralyzed staring at Simon's dead body and the girl who innocently provoked the fight by her very presence. She touched him on the shoulder gently, snapping him back to reality. Instinctively, he grabbed her paw and sprinted out of the club as the riot began. The two ran a few blocks before they flagged a cab.

"I'm not trying to get with you, but we'll need to go to a hotel." His tone was very matter-of-fact.

"What?!"

"They know where I live, and it's likely they'll know where you do too in about an hour or so. You can trust me. My name's Eduardo."

"Michaella."

That's how it started. Their story together; short lived, though it was. You can't run in a town like that forever. Two clips ended the tale eleven months later. Cold bastards didn't even care that she was in labor at the time.


	4. Chapter 4

The conclusion of the dream often brought the conclusion of the nap. Furrball often wondered about how his mind could accurately time his necessary hours of sleep in sync with his dreams. Sighing heavily before opening his eyes, the cat took a deep breath. His whiskers twitched at the whiff of a vaguely familiar scent. Furrball jumped up to find Mr. Benicio sitting opposite him on the far side of the fire escape, the scars still visible under the panther's blue fur.

_Relax, gatito. You can spend the rest of your life despising me but at least let me give you a reason to._

Furrball's tail twitched as his forepaws quivered at the sight of the panther, still refusing to identify the feline in his mind as his father. Something in the panther's eyes stopped him from attacking or leaving, however. He'd never seen anyone look at him with such an expression before. There was a warmth behind the steely exterior of the panther's stare. It wasn't a warmth of pity or admiration; it was… shame and longing, perhaps.

_ Will you join me for dinner at Yamada's?_

The question caught Furrball completely off-guard. Yamada' Sushi House was one of the most expensive restaurants in the neighborhood.

---

_How long ago did you get rid of me?_

Furrball was incredulous to the other patrons' rude stares, completely focused on the panther as he downed his seventh spicy tuna roll.

_I never did, actually. I didn't even know I had a son until I saw you on TV last month. _

The panther pushed his octopus around his plate, not hungry at all.

_Your mom was my first job. I haven't been with another. Before or since. _

_ Job?!_

_ I'm a bounty hunter… She'd jumped bail for attempted murder of her dad. I met her, but thought I fell in love after tracking her for a few days. We were kids and morons. Thought the judge would be lenient if she was pregnant. Not the case. Long story short, after her dad died in the hospital, they sentenced her to life without parole. It was policy back then to require abortions to lifers. They kinda screwed up with your mom's and you survived. She never got to even hold you from what I researched. State took you away the minute you were born. _

Benicio took a shot of sake, slamming the glass down as he finished.

_…She hung herself in her cell the next day. _

_ Hmm._

Furrball's expression revealed no hint of what was going on in his mind.

_ I have siblings?_

_ Not really. Complications, the docs said. Only you survived._

_ Lucky ass me. _

Furrball took a shot of his father's drink, his nerves not being quelled. He reached for the bottle, but Benicio pulled it away, shaking his head.

_I'll take responsibility for a lot… but not for getting you used to this. _He put the bottle on a passing waiter's tray.

"Sir, the bottle's not finished, yet…" the waiter began.

"I shouldn't be doing my drinking in front of the kid, though." Benicio winked at the waiter who hurried off. The two felines sat in awkward silence occupying their time by trying to enjoy their $300 meal.

_How'd you find out about my brothers and sisters if you didn't even know I existed? For that matter, how'd you know I was here in the first place?_ Furrball's tone wasn't as cold as it had been since he met the panther, but Benicio thought it best to tread lightly anyway.

_ I was doing a job in San Diego and saw your interview on television at a hotel. You can probably imagine that I don't watch a whole lot of cartoons, but you looked like I'd always imagined my son would look._

_ Pathetic? _The ice returned to the voice.

_Unique. _Bencio refused to take the bait once again_. So anyways, I was already doing a job at a DNA clinic and met a few doctors that owed me a favor. I tracked down your school and swiped a sample from your lunch tray last week and had us tested. You saw the results. _

The younger feline pushed his plate away. Snapped his chopsticks in half in his paw without realizing it.

_Did you turn her in?_ Furrball looked his father in the eye for the first time. He didn't look old enough to be his father. No real revealing characteristics stuck out on the panther's face, though Furrball suspected his dark fur concealed a number of scars from confrontations in the panther's chosen profession. Benicio, seemingly confident throughout their time together looked down before answering.

_We'd decided to run away together. Got on a train. As soon as it started to pick up speed, she dropped a suitcase on my head and jumped out the window. By the time I came to, I was three states away and she was in jail. _

A loud slam interrupted the conversation. Furrball saw a large shadow engulf his father as a large canine stood up behind him in his booth.

"The fuck's all this meowing and shit?! Sounds like a damn back alley over here. Cut that shit out, ya hear?" The husky's breath reeked of gin and tonic. Furrball, wide-eyed looked to see what Benicio would do. The panther didn't strike him as the type that really took shit from anyone. Ever. Benicio didn't grace the canine with an immediate response. He simply yawned, arms out stretched, whipped around thrusting his chopstick at the husky, stopping a millimeter from the canine's right eye. Moving in close to the dog's ear, Benicio whispered a slew of venomous words that Furrball strained to make out, but couldn't. When he had finished, Benicio lowered the chopstick and the dog and his party asked for their check. Benicio turned his attention back to his son to see a wide-eyed look of admiration and amazement in his son for a moment. The panther forced avoiding a smirk on his face.

_What did you-_

"Is that really what you want to know?"

Furrball snapped back into reality, hearing his father speak English. His ears sagged a bit.

_Can I ask you a question?_ Benicio quickly revert back to Catonese, sensing his son's discomfort.

Furrball looked down, saying nothing.

_Where'd you pick up that name from?_

_ What's wrong with my name? _Furrball straightened up, his glare and contempt returning. _"Lucky" and "Loved" were taken. It was either "Furrball" or "Bastard". I thought I chose the lesser of the two evils._

Bencio felt a lump in his throat. His macho faÁade was fading away as he started to feel responsibility for who he was.

_I'm sorry. I-_

Furrball waved his hand, signaling the end of the forced, awkward apology.

_You got any family? _He quickly changed the subject, not wanting to dwell on his rage for a moment. The rage he'd been carrying his entire life seemed to be a bit too heavy for him to bear in the presence of his biological father.

_Believe it or not, no. _

Furrball looked his father in the face for a while, reading micro expressions trying to determine whether he was lying or not. After an eternity, he nodded, convinced.

_Tell me about it._

Benicio sighed, putting down his chopsticks and adjusting his seat. It wasn't exactly and easy subject for him.

_Okay… Brazil. Cub. Black market. Smuggled. California. Metal Band. Slashing. Escape. Teenager. Alley. Criminals. Bounty Hunter._

Furrball didn't really know what to say. Could he really be so angry with someone so similar to him?

Benicio decided not to let his son dwell on his own miserable past. It wasn't fair. He needed to take responsibility for the actions he made, even though he was only 15 when Furrball was born.

_So where to go from here, eh?_

Furrball looked a bit confused with the question. _What do you mean?_

_ I mean, I found you. Well, found out you existed. I can't in good conscience let you continue raising yourself on the streets._

_It's too late for you to save me. I don't need anyone anymore. _The sad tone mismatched the angry words.

_Even so,_

_I'm 14!_ A passing waiter nearly dropped his tray at this. Benicio quickly blinked away a tear and shot the waiter a steely look before return his attention to his son.

_I made it 14 years on my own._

_That's impossible, son. You should know that._

Furrball's extremities burned at the sound of "son" on his father's lips. He couldn't, nor did he have the desire to hold back his own tears anymore. They silently flowed as he stared at the table.

Benicio knew they weren't tears of sorrow. Taking a deep breath he continued, lest he lose his nerve. Unfolding a piece of paper he pushed it across the table in front of Furrball.

_What's this? _Furrball scanned the paper. _I know this hospital. Who's Margaret Shannon?_

_Just go see her sometime. She works the night shift. _

The two felines finished their meal in silence. It was less awkward. Outside they walked along the street for a while, saying nothing still seemingly warmed by one another's presence.

_I live in hotels. Got everything I own on my back. _ Benicio wasn't bragging, Furrball could tell. _I want you to go with me. I have a job coming up in Albuquerque next week._

Furrball looked at his father for a moment, but said nothing.

_You have school, though. My life is a bit of a daily hassle, too. You wouldn't believe how many green lights I have on my head. Occupational hazard, I guess._

The younger feline knew what was coming next and braced himself.

_That's why I don't want to involve you in my affairs. I never wanted to hurt you but I figured I didn't have a whole lot of time left here and I owed you at least an explanation. If you ever get curious about how you stayed alive as a kitten, look up that nurse. I gotta go now. Seems I've worn out my welcome here._

The two cats came to a street corner and stopped, their eyes meeting once more. Furrball made no gesture unsure of himself, never having been in such a situation. Benicio was no better, having no practice in embracing a loved one. He put his arms around the statue of his son hesitantly, causing the younger cat to flinch, not sure what he was doing. Furrball did not hug back, nor did he try to get away. After a few moments, Benicio let go and stood upright once more.

_So long._ Furrball was at a loss of something better to say. He took off in a sprint along his street quickly disappearing in the steam of the night air.

Benicio yawned, stretching as he turned around, allowing the tears to flow freely for once in his life. As he slowly walked towards his hotel, he ignored the shadows in the background growing larger and larger the further he went. Finally as the shadows were onto of him for the second time that night, Benicio spun around, facing his would-be assailants. The dog and his cronies from the restaurant stood leering at him with their greedy teeth and malicious expressions. In a flash, Benicio drew his twin Berettas, constantly switching targets among the gang of five a few yards from him. To his credit, Benicio was able to squeeze of three rounds before any of the bangers could draw. In the end, six bodies lay cold on the pavement, hot lead steaming from their recent wounds. A lucky shot from one of the bangers, precise marksmanship from the hunter. Such is the life of a street fighter.


	5. Chapter 5

Furrball found a few relatively clean newspapers and made his bed in an empty crate, thanking the heavens that the rain that had threatened to arrive earlier got cold feet at the last moment. He fell asleep with the scrap in his hand, sleeping next to the hospital.

A loud crack of lightening completely lit up the sky causing the feline to jump up even before he was awake. Furrball jumped so high, the entire scene almost seemed rehearsed. Instinctively, the blue cat sped towards shelter under a building, nearly running into a nurse taking a drag of a cigarette. Furrball was disoriented as his eyes struggled to adjust to his surroundings and the presence of a human confused him even more. It was still pitch black outside but even darker now that the rain had come.

Furrball sheepishly glanced at the nurse's watch. 4:20 in the morning. He smiled weakly at the lady; half expecting her to smack him across the back of his head and run back into the building, screaming. She did quite the opposite, though.

"Furrball? Is that you?!" It wasn't the sound of an adoring fan form afar. Furrball raised an eyebrow looking at the nurse once more, his eyes now fully adjusted as the lightning struck once more. Her badge read, "M. Shannon". Furrball let out an excited mew and sat in front of the nurse, relaxed.

"It _is_ you! You're not going to believe this, but I've been expecting you!" Margaret explained, taking a last puff of her cigarette. She opened the door and motioned inside. "Won't you please come in out of the rain?"

Furrball started to protest indicating he was okay, but succumbed to the curiosity inside of him.

In the lobby of the ICU Furrball sat upright on a chair, quite out of his element. A few nurses passed him by, whispering things or staring for a bit as they did. Margaret was administering medication and had indicated that she'd come back shortly. It was a most uncomfortable feeling and Furrball prayed for her swift return as he stared at his footpaws awaiting her return. Ten minutes passed before Furrball saw her again. "What're you doing in the most uncomfortable chair in the lobby?!" Margaret exclaimed. Not waiting for answer, the nurse ushered Furrball onto a soft, sagging couch that had probably seen more summers than Furrball. It was very comfortable, nonetheless. Watching the anxiety on his face melt somewhat, the nurse knelt in front of the cat.

"I'd like to tell you about something, but I think it would be best to wait until after my night shift. I get off in about an hour and a half. Would you mind taking a catnap here until my shift ends? We'll grab some breakfast at the diner across the street." She winked as she said "catnap", causing Furrball to blush and smile slightly.

Reluctantly, Furrball nodded.

"Great!" Margaret smiled, showing her teeth. "Please get some sleep. Don't mind the others… it's just not everyday we see a TV star so close." She winked again as she hurried off to complete her duties. With anyone else that comment and would wink have merited evil thoughts from the cat. Something about this one was different. Satisfied, Furrball crawled into a ball on a single cushion.

---

The aroma in the diner made it nearly impossible for Furrball to keep from drooling even moreso than dinner last night at Yamada's. Furrball rarely had breakfast and it had never been cooked before. He stared at the menu intently reading all the choices, spending nearly five minutes just looking at the variety of drinks available.

"Ever since I saw Benicio last week, I started taking my breaks outside, hoping to find you waiting for me, Furrball."

Furrball lowered his menu to see Margaret. She smiled and pointed to the sampler.

"It's killer." She said.

The feline nodded and pointed to it and grape juice when the waitress came to take their orders.

"You've grown up so handsome."

Furrball's ears perked as he shot a perplexed look at the nurse. She was smiling politely.

"You wouldn't remember me. I worked at the prison hospital where you were born."

The feline snapped to attention.

"A friend of mine worked there as well. Angela Daugherty."

A faint glimmer of recognition sped through Furrball's brain but escaped before he knew it had even come for a visit.

"Angela was a real rebel, for all intents and purposes. If she didn't agree with something, she didn't do it. Or she found a way to do what she wanted. Really headstrong."

Furrball cocked his head, as if waiting for the punch line.

"Well she was the attending with your mother. I assume Benicio told you a bit about the policy. Abortion."

The cat nodded, wondering where she was going with this.

"Angela disagreed with the policy, obviously, and intervened at the last second. She figured aborting so far into pregnancy was definitely murder. She was able to deliver a single kitten before anyone knew what was happening. Wardens and superiors suspected something was up with the amount of blood they found, so Angela had to hide you in a locked up carrier in the alley. She'd have taken you home, but there were spies for some reason. They didn't want to have any protests or anything, especially if the public was to find out they had such a policy which conflicted with national policy."

Furrball rubbed his eyes, his expression revealing nothing. As the waitress set their plates on the table, Furrball took no notice of the food looking directly at Maragaret, waiting for her to continue. The nurse picked up her glass and started to drink, but saw Furrball's expression and hesitated.

"She kept you in the carrier in the alley for the first two years. I went with her to feed you a few times in the alley. She really loved you. Called you her little fur ball when she'd cuddle you. When you turned three, she put that bandage on your tail for your birthday present."

Furrball grabbed his tail looking at the bandage. He knew he'd had it since before he could remember and always wondered who'd have given him such a simple gesture that always meant so much to him.

"A couple of weeks later, administrators for the warden got suspicious. They started following her after hours. It took a while, but she was able to let you out of your cage. Even though you'd never been out in the world before, you basically figure out what to do on your own."

So the clumsiness and awkward movements weren't really his nature. Furrball took a sip of his grape juice and went to work on his hash browns.

"A few days later, Angela was killed in a car "accident"" Margaret made little quotations with her fingers. Furrball looked puzzled.

"Kinda difficult to call it an accident when a car jumps the median and crosses of four lanes of traffic to hit directly on the driver's side." Margaret stopped, swallowing hard. Furrball's eyes revealed concern and he put his paw on the table. Next to her hand. Margaret took it and squeezed gently.

"Here I am telling you about this and you're the one who's being strong." She let go and wiped a tear away, regaining her composure a bit. "You know a waited a week for the heat to cool off a bit then I went looking for you. Spent a year trying to find you. I came close a few times, I thought, but I never found you. Can't believe we both ended up in LA, though."

Furrball smiled and started to eat more of his breakfast. Margaret watched him, fascinated.

"Won't you come home with me, Furrball?" Her tone was bordering desperation.

Furrball took her hand once more and stroked it softly, calming her nerves. He gently shook his head, "no". The two finished their meals in silence.

Waving goodbye to Margaret, Furrball began his walk to the Looniversity with a hint of a smile on his face. As he passed alleys and streets, he passed Yamada's and stopped for a moment, wondering if he'd ever see his father again. The blue feline resolved to keep his head up and stared at all the tall buildings he might one day frequent when he became an adult. As he was gazing at the skyscrapers, he walked over six outlines of police chalk, stopping over the outline of a panther to read a billboard about real estate. Moving on, he hadn't noticed the crime scene he passed by or the chalk from the outline that now was stuck to his footpaws. Rounding the next corner, Furrball walked through a puddle washing away the chalk forever.


End file.
